37
TRUNKS should have known he would have found his mother down here. He hadn't intended to stay as long as he had, but in his mind, he'd wanted more time to linger with his mother and father, to be around the father he'd never had growing up, and his decision had been worth the risk.
For the past couple of hours, Bulma had been tinkering with some of the devices she'd been working on while taking frequent swigs out of a bottle of flavored water.
These days, as her stomach grew swollen with her baby—with him—inside of her, her only comfort for her sickness and nausea seemed to be water-dipped with lime.
It was still strange to see, let alone think about, as Trunks carefully poked his head in through the door, to see his mother heavily pregnant with, well, with him. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the sight. Mom hadn't seen him yet, her back was turned to him. But he heard her.
With a frustrated groan, Bulma chucked the screwdriver she'd been using to fiddle with one of her inventions to calibrated it better and took another long swig of her water.
"Son of a goddamned Namek," Bulma grumbled to herself under her breath as she snatched at the air to catch it after the screwdriver had already gone sailing across the room, where it hit the opposite wall with a crash. "Whatever," she groaned when she decided to just leave it there.
She hoped she wouldn't forget and step on it later, then that would really hurt. "Mom?" Trunks awkwardly cleared his throat and raised his voice as he used his knuckles to knock on the doorframe. "Can—can I talk to you for a sec?" he asked, dreading the conversation he was about to have.
Truth be told, he didn't want to leave his mother, or his father, for that matter, as stubborn and hot-headed as he was, but something told him that seeing how Vegeta had cared for Bulma throughout the duration of her pregnancy in small, subtle ways, told him she would be just fine.
His time here was up. It was time for him to return to his own home, in his own timeline, and make amends for all that had been done wrong.
His mom slowly turned at the waist to look at him, a cheerful smile on her face, a lock of her now-grown back shoulder-length bright blue hair, compliments of her prenatal vitamins, fell into her eyes that she swiped out of the way with one swift swipe of her thumb.
She perked up at the sight of Trunks lingering in the doorway.
It had been something of a shock for his mom at first upon Trunks coming back with those creeps who'd tried to poison her and had killed Gure (who had since been revived with the Dragon Balls, with help from Bulma in tracking them down with her special radar), to learn that Trunks was her adult son from the future, but if there was one thing about his mom, it was that she was resilient, and she'd adapted to the shock surprisingly well enough.
The only quip she'd made was that it was a relief to know that the next Saiyan Prince in their family would grow up to be a handsome young man. It had made Trunks blush at the time, but coming from him, it meant the world.
"Hey, Trunks!" Bulma chirped happily, chucking aside whatever she had been working on with a low groan of dissatisfaction and giving her son her full attention as she turned to face him. "Sure thing, I'm finished here anyway, this thing was giving me fits. What's up, son?"
He eyed his mom for a second in her flowing long sky-blue maxi dress. She'd taken to wearing dresses more often these days as her pregnancy progressed, but it was still something of a strange sight. Back home in his timeline, he'd gotten so used to seeing her wear her lab jumpsuit and coat that this was almost a foreign sight to behold.
But even Trunks had to admit that the dress looked good on his mom, especially now that her hair had grown back out. And Dad would never admit it, but he'd caught his father sneaking a glimpse more than once or twice when he thought Bulma wasn't looking.
"I gotta go back," he apologized, a pained look flitting across his face as he got right to the heart of the matter. "But…I wanted to talk to you about Android 18," he stammered.
A dark shadow flitted across Bulma's face, and Trunks immediately regretted speaking the words the moment they left his lips. But it was already too late to take them back, so he forced himself to press onward. He frowned and looked down, his eyes drawn to his mom's swollen stomach.
"I know you want to tell me to think about things that are bothering me, but that's really hard to do, you know. I'm not…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I'm not strong like you, Mom. Things bother me, Mom. I just…wanna talk things out you know? To try to make myself not feel so bad about thinking those things about her…"
Bulma gaped at her adult son. She'd been excepting he'd come to say goodbye. Of course, she knew he couldn't stay in this timeline. Not when he had his own family to get back to, but for him to want to discuss Krillin's girlfriend was a complete surprise. So, he wanted to talk to her about 18? What really was there to discuss? She and Krillin were sort of in a relationship, though they thought they were being sneaky about it and keeping it on the low-down, always sneaking off and pretending not to be interested in one another.
But Bulma knew better, and one day, she'd catch them at it when both of them managed to let their guard down.
Bulma sighed and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ears, feeling grateful she'd grown it back. Truth be told, she felt better when it was longer, and she hoped Vegeta liked it this way too. He claimed he didn't give a shit, but she could sort of tell he preferred it this way as it was now.
Bulma sighed and shook her head and motioned for Trunks with a wave of her arm to follow him out of her workshop and back up to the main level of the house, where Vegeta now lived permanently with Bulma in Capsule Corp, alongside her parents, who were more than a little eager to become grandparents to their grandbaby in another few more days.
"Why should you feel bad, Trunks? 18's proved herself," his mom pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone as she led her son up the stairwell and out onto the back patio, where she collapsed into her waiting chair with an overly dramatic sigh and kicked off her flipflops, grateful to be sitting.
Bulma would never admit it to herself, but this pregnancy was exhausting her. She hesitated as Trunks took the seat across from her, leaning forward and turning slightly towards Bulma so he could look his mom square in the eye.
Trunks wanted his meaning to be crystal clear.
Trunks sighed and ran his fingers through his lavender hair. "I feel bad because I over-reacted and made a stupid mistake and almost got…" He paused, not wanting to think of how his temper on Yardrat had almost caused him to kill 18, not knowing at the time, she was different. Trunks swallowed and forced himself to continue, wanting to get it out in the open. "I overestimated myself, Mom, and almost said the wrong thing to her, and I've fought against the urge to really hurt her this whole time."
Bulma narrowed her eyes. She couldn't believe she actually had to explain to her son that it was all right to feel the things that he felt for 18, that just because she was different in this timeline didn't mean that excused the things her alternate version had done in Trunks' world.
"It's okay to feel these things, Trunks," she began, speaking slowly while she struggled to formulate an adequate enough response in her mind. "You've done nothing in my eyes to make me think that what you feel towards 18 is your fault. But I think it would be good for you to accept that she's different here. I mean, you really think she'd be dating Krillin if she had annihilation of the planet on the brain?" she snorted dryly as she lifted her mug of tea brought to her by a little serving robot, one of her dad's inventions.
Bulma chuckled at the light pink blush that speckled its way along her son's cheeks. Though the slightest sound of movement coming from behind her shoulder and to her left caused both Bulma and Trunks to collectively swivel their gazes in the direction of the new arrival.
"Well, speak of the devil," Bulma grinned, waving a cheery hello to Android 18 who was nervously standing on the balcony's entryway and fidgeting with her fingers, with Vegeta almost standing right behind her.
With a sigh of frustration, Android 18's icy blue eyes narrowed as she rested her slender frame against the doorway, while Vegeta moved to stand at a safe distance by the balcony's balustrade, keeping his arms folded across his chest and actively avoiding looking at Trunks while doing so.
Trunks fought against the urge to roll his eyes. He should have expected nothing more and nothing less from him than to keep distance.
To their surprise, Android 18 spoke up first, shaking her head and closing her eyes.
"I'm sorry, kid," she apologized. Though her face remained impassive (as always!), the guilt shown in her blue eyes. She sighed in frustration and put her fingertips on her forehead. "I didn't want to get into this with you. With either one of you," she added, looking squarely at Bulma while she spoke and actively ignoring Vegeta off to the side altogether. "Truth be told, I didn't wanna think about this either again, but mostly I didn't want you to think about what happened. I'm sorry it took me so goddamned long to bring it up," 18 apologized, looking solely at Bulma.
It was clear to Trunks and Vegeta she was speaking to her, not to Trunks. Trunks stiffened as he searched the android's unreadable expression. He couldn't quite be sure, but he swore he caught the flickering of something passing through the blonde android's eyes.
"But you—" Bulma started to say, though she let out a squeak of surprise as Android 18 flew forward on the balls of her heels so fast she was a blur. The blonde didn't let Vegeta's wife complete her sentence as she put a cold finger over Bulma's lips, effectively silencing the woman.
"Shut up. No. No way. You did nothing wrong, Briefs, so quit giving me that look, I can see it in your eyes," Android 18 snapped, as she took her finger away and took an awkward step back. "How many times do I have to fucking say it? I'm your bodyguard, aren't I? I'm supposed to protect you and I've done a fucking shit job of it so far," 18 snapped softly.
"But you did, 18!" Bulma interrupted, letting herself relax slightly as an elongated shadow cast over from behind her in the shape of Vegeta's wild hair. She smiled, not even having to look behind her to realize her Saiyan King now stood protectively behind her, his hands clasped on either side of her shoulders. "18, you did protect me when it counted," she added, her frown deepening as she thought of Yardrat, how 18 had gotten her and Krillin away from the fighting when Tarble had transformed.
"Not fast enough," Android 18 shouted, curling her shaking hands into fists at her sides in the effort to control her power as her anger and self-hatred with herself growing.
18 stared at Bulma, hardly daring to believe that this woman had the audacity to forgive her actions, even consider her a friend, after the lousy job she'd done so far of being able to save her.
"When I lost my temper with Krillin at that stupid nightclub, I was thinking to all of you, "Good. Go. Get the fuck away from me. Whatever." Every last one of you was pissing me off that day. I was sick of the bullshit. So, I left and went outside, not really thinking of the consequences. If I would have stayed, I could have told you that bitch Madame Destiny or whatever her stupid stage name is, was no good and not to drink that tea that almost killed you, and I wasn't thinking about your welfare or your kid's," she added, gesturing with a jerk of her head to Bulma's swollen stomach. "No, I was thinking about what to do with the money when your dad finally paid me what I was promised," she said, briefly looking towards Vegeta.
18 could hear her own shrill voice rising in volume as she was growing angrier, effectively becoming more and more upset with herself the longer she talked about this, but she needed to clear the air.
Android 18's tongue felt thick in her mouth, but she forced herself to let it all out in the open. "I didn't care what you lot got up to, as long as I was left alone in peace. While you were inside the club more or less being attacked by that bitch, I was outside wondering when the hell I was gonna get to go home. No one was looking out for you. That was supposed to be MY job. I was supposed to be the one to protect you. Thinking about what you were to, what kind of stupid shit I'd have to save your ass from. But I didn't care."
"But you saved me and Krillin," Bulma took it upon herself to point out, reaching up and giving Vegeta's hand an affectionate little pat.
Though she was trying hard not to become increasingly annoyed with his presence. Not that she wasn't happy to have him here living with her, she was, of course, she was, he was a wonderful husband to her, in his own way, but this whole pregnancy and him fretting over how much she was supposed to be moving around was kind of getting rather annoying.
"Vegeta couldn't after his brother transformed, and neither could Goku. Not with Frieza there," Bulma elaborated, a shudder wafting down her spine at the very thought. "You did exactly what you were supposed to. Exactly what I needed from you, 18. That's more than enough for me."
"But it's not enough for me," Android 18 emphasized through gritted teeth as she stared at her friend. "I just wish I'd been faster," she spoke in a shaking, but calmer voice than before as she calmed down.
Bulma forced a nervous laugh as she felt the baby kick within her. She grunted and rested her hand on top of her swollen abdomen.
Woman, came Vegeta's voice as he initiated their bond. Is it…?
NO, Vegeta! Bulma screamed inwardly for the tenth time today as she felt the man practically stiffen his posture behind him. I promise, I will tell you when it does, but until then, I need you to stay calm, Geta.
Bulma gritted her teeth and waited until her spasm had passed before continuing to speak, hoping to supplicate 18 some and put her mind at ease.
"This isn't your fault, and it's not my fault either. It's no one's fault what happened but Destiny's, those Saiyans, and Frieza's, and every last one of them has been taken care of," she added with a note of pride in her voice as she looked towards Trunks, who blushed and looked down at his lap. "I can accept that here and now if you can, Android 18."
18 sighed and leaned back against the wall. She felt so fucking defeated. She'd put Bulma in danger Kami knew only how many times now, but she'd never expected something quite like Yardrat all those months ago. Much less than it had taken her this long to summon up enough courage to speak with her about it.
Well, technically this was the second time. The first time, Bulma had woken up after her recovery on the Lookout and the only thing she'd said to 18 at the time was that she was glad 18 had been there for her and Krillin and had let the issue drop.
It had been Krillin who had insisted that 18 come to Capsule Corp today to talk to Bulma to try to make amends with their friend and start over. The dangers 18 was used to were relatively easy to spot. Fire, guns, monsters, people, bombs, you name it.
But before 18 could mull it over further in her mind, Bulma spoke up, pulling the blonde android from the dark swirling vortex of her thoughts of self-deprecation, forcing her to pay attention to Bulma.
"It's no one's fault but Frieza's, 18, and he's dead, Vegeta made damn well sure of that," she snapped, smiling slightly upon noticing the triumphant little smirk of her husband as he quietly closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "It wasn't all that bad anyway. It could have been way, way worse, but it wasn't. and it would have been too if you weren't there. It was scary, yeah, but it's over. I—I just…won't think about it anymore."
Android 18 sighed as she made to turn away, sensing Bulma was growing fatigued with this conversation and needed time to herself. "I promise. I'm not gonna let anyone do anything like to you again, Briefs. I promise, Bulma," she said, lowering her voice an octave as she looked at her feet before summoning enough courage to look up towards the kid.
The purple-haired young man was eyeing her with an odd expression on her face like he wasn't sure what to make of her just now.
It was kind of weird, but as a light pink blush speckled along his cheeks, the kid looked away for it suddenly to not be all that weird, really.
"I know," Bulma smiled softly, reaching for Vegeta's hand, which was resting over the top of her shoulder, and giving it a light little squeeze. Bulma slowly swiveled her gaze back towards Trunks and gave him a smile. "Hey, Trunks. You said you had to leave soon. Didn't you have your own gorgeous mom to get back to, son?" she teased, a slight lilt to her jovial voice that made both Trunks and Vegeta turn red as Trunks bolted so fast from his chair, he almost overturned it.
"Y—yeah, I—I need to get going, Mom. It's…it's been real," he murmured, his sharp gaze flitting from both his mother and his father.
His dad caught his eye, and Trunks couldn't be sure, but he swore he thought his father smiled at him. Or at the very least, there was a faint glimmer of pride glistening in the Saiyan King's black eyes as he looked at Trunks.
He supposed, coming from his father, that was as close to any semblance of affection as he was going to get from the man. He sighed and wound his arms around his mother's swollen middle as he stooped, not wanting her to get up from her chair in her current comfortable position. "I'll be seeing you," he whispered, his voice cracking a little bit.
"Take care, Trunks, and be careful on your way back home, alright?" Bulma responded warmly, pulling apart from his embrace and smiling at him, her blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I love you, son," she whispered, shooting her son a shy little smile.
With a soft nod, Trunks turned away and looked towards 18, and to his surprise, found himself repeating the gesture to the blonde android, who, not that long ago, he'd wanted to kill, and now found…he didn't.
He let out a relieved exhale as the blonde returned the nod curtly, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a sly, sardonic little grin.
Without bothering to let himself look back, Trunks took to the skies to head in the direction of where he'd parked his mother's time machine. "You're okay," he said softly, speaking to not only himself but to his mother and father, too. And he guessed, to a lesser extent, 18, too.
But Trunks knew he was saying it more for himself than anything. His mom was about to give birth to him, his dad hadn't left his mom's side once. 18 turned out to be all right enough in his book. Mom was okay.
Everything was fine.
Trunks was still smiling when his spaceship landed back on solid ground in his own time and the first face he greeted was his mother, who welcomed him back with a warm smile and open, waiting arms for a hug.
He couldn't wait to tell his mom everything that had happened.